Page 38 of Trick Shot

I reach for my suitcase and start pulling it toward me. It’s wedged between more bags and refuses to budge.

“Come on,” I hiss under my breath, yanking harder.

“Let me do it.” His voice slides up behind me, way too close for my liking right now.

“I’ve got it,” I bite back, still tugging on the damn thing.

I feel him step closer while I struggle. His large hand brushes mine, reaching for the handle.

“Don’t,” I snap, jerking my arm away. “I said I’ve got it.” I whirl on him, chest tight with frustration.

“What’s with the attitude?” He raises a brow, amused.

“What’s with the Pussycat Dolls?” I snap back before I can think better of it.

Shit.

He glances toward the porch where the girls are still laughing, leaning against the rail like a scene out of every hockey player groupie fantasy ever filmed.

“Ah,” he says slowly and looks back at me. “So that’s what this is about.”

I scoff and turn back to the trunk, refusing to answer. I already told him too much.

“You’re jealous,” he murmurs, stepping around me until he’s blocking me from everyone’s view. “And… I don’t hate it.”

My jaw clenches as I give my suitcase one more pull. He doesn’t give me a chance to protest this time, just simply reaches for the handle and gives it a small tug, freeing half of the suitcase—but not enough for me to get it and get out of here.

“I invited them so the guys have something to play with,” he murmurs low in my ear, causing goosebumps on my skin.“So they don’t go near what I want.”

The air between us ignites. My pulse kicks up as I try to process what he just said. No one’s been this bold toward me before. No one but Ghost. And hearing something like this—feeling it, and seeing it instead of reading it as a text… it’s different. It’s real.

I open my mouth, an insult on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t even form a word before he reaches forward, grabs my suitcase, and hauls it out with one brutal pull. I reach for the handle automatically, trying to snatch it back. My hand wraps around it at the same time as his.

He tugs.

And instead of the suitcase, he gets me.

I gasp, stumbling forward, momentum yanking me into him until we’re an inch apart. He looks down at me, playful smile forming slowly.

“Hope you packed enough panties in there,” he murmurs, pushing the suitcase toward me. “We’re off grid.”

Chapter seven

~JACE~

There’s a moment—right as the last car door slams shut, and fifteen players along with a group of puck bunnies start stampeding through my beach house—where I remember why I don’t host shit like this often. Chaos, sweat, and body spray that could double as bear repellent.

And her.

She’s the only fucking reason for this trip. The only reason I let this many morons inside my sanctuary. I’ve been talking to this girl for ten months and now she’s actually here. The sunlight dances across her dark hair, shorts riding up her thighs as she walks through my property, halfway aware I’ve imagined her bent over every surface in this house. My best friend’s littlefucking sister. I’m one wrong look away from sinning before lunch.

The house floods with noise. The guys are yelling, laughing, and someone’s already opening beers. Voices bounce off the high ceilings and crash against the stone.

“Jace!” Terrance calls from the stairs. “What’s the bedroom sitch?”

“Just pick whatever,” I shout back.

“I’ll take my usual. Far right, first floor.” Dom walks in behind me, tossing his duffel down by the stairs.